


All the King's Men

by Seaneta



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Genderbending, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Paralysis, Porn, Rape, fem!will, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5731732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaneta/pseuds/Seaneta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will wakes up in Hannibal's office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the King's Men

**Author's Note:**

> Mixed things up a bit, but decided to keep the name. I tried feminine names, but they didn't fit. 'Will' would fit Will, I think, even if he was a she.
> 
> Also, apologies for any fans of "Edge of Paradise". I have the entire story outlined and the next chapter half-way written, but motivation has been lacking. Greatly. I've been putting my classes before my hobby. In due time, I will update. Again, I apologize. I understand how disheartening it can be when an author doesn't continue a story.
> 
> This...piece, is just a product of venting/taking a break from essays/missing these characters. Don't expect poetry here, ha.

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                Recollections came in vague, non-sequential pieces when she woke up. Her last coherent memory was driving…somewhere. Will rolled her head to the side, blinking as surroundings spun and jolted with vertigo. _Dr. Lecter_. She had been driving to Hannibal’s office. Much good the weekly discussions did for the stability of her mind.

               Where was that stability now?

               Will continued to blink away the haze, but as she did her composed demeanor shook. The room she was in was much too big to be any room in her house. Red walls and tall windows, polished oak shelves and mutt-free carpet. And that lighting, so awfully dim, making everything sinister and devious. Despite the surrounding shadows, Will came to understand she was still in Dr. Lecter’s office. That was possible, sensible, understandable. It was also reassuring; she hadn’t lost much time.

               But in Dr. Lecter’s decision of lessening the lighting for her unexpected nap, Will was able to see why she had confused the doctor’s chaise for her own bed. Her body was clad in only her bra, underwear, and socks. Like much of her wardrobe, the articles did not match. Instinctively, Will tried to grab a pillow, a blanket, anything to throw over herself, but her hands lagged like a video that wouldn’t load. There they were, laying like puppets on her stomach, waiting for their master to make them move. But she couldn't. _Move_ , she commanded. The only thing that she did manage was a small grunt. Her entire body felt heavy, lethargic. What limbs that could move, were slow or uncoordinated.

               Disturbed, Will tried to recall more details. The window's drapes were shut, but she tried to visualize her car out there, somewhere. There _was_ a drive to Maryland. Baltimore. The sky had been a burnt orange from the setting sun, and green lines on the dashboard read _7:17PM._  She had been on schedule to see her colleague. There was an abrupt use of her brakes, a walk to the white building in the winter air. But when she tried to visualize Hannibal opening his office door, greeting her with a warm smile, she knew it was a daydream disguising itself as a memory.

               Upset her mind tried to console her, Will stopped piecing together what had brought her half-naked on the chaise. The obvious she could deduce, memory or not; Hannibal Lecter had done this.

               But what reason did he have? Will could see herself fainting -the doctor placing her on the chaise until she woke. But what caused the heavy limbs? A terrifying side effect of the fainting? And what caused Hannibal to remove her clothes? Was _she_  the one who took them off in a drowsy stupor?

               Will rolled her head (had it always been so heavy?) to the other side, scanning the entirety of the office until she stopped on a man sitting at his desk.

               “You’re awake." He said. She stared at him. "I heard a change in breathing, but attributed it to one of your night terrors. Forgive me.” Will couldn’t do much of anything but lay against the chaise, arms limp across her stomach. Hannibal looked positively serene as he casually rose from behind his desk. The pristine suit Will just-now remembered him wearing was reduced to the button-down and slacks. Even his Oxfords were missing, steps silent with black socks as he rounded the counter and approached her. “I hope you were not waiting long.”

               There was an odd look in his eye that Will had never seen before, but knew it wasn’t a charade or ill-fitting. It was more like a door had opened, and Will could finally step inside and see the doctor for what he really was. And he looked at Will with a sort of hunger that made the lack of clothes uncomfortably surreal.

               “I-” Will swallowed, throat as heavy as her limbs. “I can’t move.”

               “I know.” Hannibal came closer to the chaise, hands intertwining just below the waistline. “It’s a mild sedative. Your body is familiar with its properties. The drug will wear off and you will not feel aftereffects from it. Typically, I give you something to help you stay asleep, but I wanted you awake this time. Will.” Dr. Lecter met the woman’s eyes and tried to hold her gaze, but Will knew he was cataloging details about her she probably hadn’t even noticed. His stare was always so invasive, but before those eyes had only dived into her head and attempted a dissection. With her body exposed, the violation felt greater despite being only skin deep.

               Will tried to move her arms and turn so she’d lay on her side, but the most she could do as a pitiable jerk. He watched. She immediately stopped, making his gaze flick up from her stomach by asking, “Why?”

               “Because I need you coherent for what I’m about to do, Will.” Dexterous fingers began to unbutton his sleeve cuffs and fold them up his forearms. He still looked down at Will as he did this, head tilting slightly. It reminded Will of a dog’s outward curiosity to something strange. “You came to me, tonight, with a gun in your hand. Do you remember this?”

               She tried to shake her head, the image Dr. Lecter painting bizarre. “N-no.”

               “You walked into my office, Will, and pointed a gun at me. You intended to kill me.”

               “No,” she tried to raise her voice, “You’re- you’re lying. You want me to remember something that didn’t-”

               “Shh-” Hannibal crouched down to place two long fingers against Will's lips. With his other hand, he reached for something under the chaise. “Is this your gun, Will?”  
              

              The smooth metal was unmistakable -the type, its black color, even the small chip off the handle’s edge when dropping it in the Hobb’s house. Hannibal took the gun in his grip and, expressionless, opened the magazine to reveal eight bullets remaining in the glock. He slid the tray back inside its holster, then placed the weapon somewhere back on the floor.

               Will’s nose wrinkled, eyes fixed on her bellybutton as she tried to remember. She never brought her gun to a session before. She barely carried it when she was on an investigation with Jack. The thought that Hannibal would lie to her, that he had somehow broken into her house and stole the gun just to conjure a fake memory was ridiculous.

               “Did you strip-search me?”

               “No.” He answered. “I removed you clothes, but not with the intention of finding more weapons on you.”

               Her breathing picked up, and warm fingertips managed to grip the sides of her abdomen. Hannibal could have said _yes_ , could have made the bizarre situation a little more reasonable. She didn’t understand.

               “Why-” her face scrunched up, “am I awake?”

               “Because I want to see your reactions, Will.” A strong hand came to rest on the exposed side of her face, its thumb caressing a cheekbone.

               She looked at him, incredulous, mystified. Hannibal had gotten so close to her now, she could smell the cologne, something smart like cedar and relaxing like lavender lofting off him. It smelled comforting in its familiarity, warm like a fireplace.

               Will wrenched her thoughts away; they weren’t much of a help lately. “I want my clothes, Dr. Lecter.” Her voice was steady. “And I want to leave.”

               For the first time since Will’s doze, Hannibal looked elsewhere, as though he considered her request. The hand which had been stroking her cheek stilled. A second passed. Then a second more.

               “Dr. Lecter-”

               The hand slid its way back into her dark locks of limp curls, grasping strands by their roots in the back of her head before pushing her forward. Hannibal met Will’s lips with his own on the edge of chaise, bending slightly to makeup for the woman’s lack of elevation. The kiss was soft, its pressure gentle onto each other. Will instinctively shut her eyes but did not push away from the intrusion -she couldn’t out of lack of control, _wouldn’t_ in fear of upsetting the domineering doctor.

               When Hannibal pulled back, hand still tangled in her tresses, Will expelled an overdue breath. It seemed to affect Hannibal in an aesthetic way, for when she opened her eyes Will noticed a blatant change in the once-respectable doctor’s pants. For a moment she was entranced by the sight of the subtle jump beneath the fabric, the idea of Hannibal letting desire govern him rather than principle both rare and alarming.

               But then it was over as quickly as it began. When Hannibal pulled away from Will, the young woman felt much needed relief overcome her, the purge of anxiety welcome and long past due.

               Sadly, predictably, it was short lived. Will confirmed it so when the doctor kneeled onto the chaise, knees pressing themselves into the lush cushion on either side of her thighs. He straddled her without sitting on her, legs nudging her limp ones closer as he reached out and gently stroked a black strap of her bra.

               “You expose the inner mechanisms of your head so freely to me. Yet the intimacy of this exposure has you frightened. Tell me Will, do you think I’m as well versed with physical unrest as I am with the mind?”

               Slowly, his forefinger and thumb stroked the thin strap, sliding up and almost over her shoulder before gliding back down until he hit the top of her breast and its thin cup. Despite the fear she felt, Will couldn’t help her eyes almost rolling at the pleasant sensation Hannibal evoked. It had been a long time since she felt the close embrace of a lover, of anyone really. She was not a virgin in its naive sense, a warm bath with freshly clipped fingernails taking care of that -but she _was_ in the meaning people valued. She had certainly fooled around in the past and had been made several propositions, but it never happened. That wasn’t to say she ever felt touched-starved or lonely for companionship, but as Hannibal ghosted his fingertips against her breast and let the faint warmth of his breath caress her neck, Will wondered if she had been wrong all this time.

               “I think…you take a certain amount of pride…in everything you do. Dr. Lecter.”

               His thumb hooked under the seam of her bra. She forgot to breathe. Will met Hannibal’s gaze in a rare occurrence of blue meeting brown. The implication was there, in both their eyes. If he would go through with it, there would be no turning back.

               With a sharp tug, the bra was lifted from her chest and discarded. A stone settled in her stomach at the realization it had already been unclasped behind her back. All it took was Hannibal maneuvering the cups off her shoulders and down languid arms.

               And then his breath ghosted over nipples perking from the sudden exposure. Will stopped breathing, in both surprise and embarrassment, not wanting to move her chest and inadvertently cause a breast to go where it really shouldn’t. But then velvet lips teased the sensitive flesh and her fingernails dug themselves into her sides. Above her was Hannibal Lecter, a man almost twenty years her senior, straddling her and bending down on top of her, face in her chest with a look of serene bliss with closed eyes as he indulged in her body’s fragrance, in the softness of her skin.

               She disguised her whine as a groan. Rightfully so No matter what had happened before she fainted, this wasn't a good situation. Something made Hannibal strip her and drug her, though apparently he had injected her with sedatives before. Something made her normally refined doctor think it suitable to crawl on top of her and put his mouth between her breasts.

               Regardless of the sluggish state of her body, the blood was pumping at its fullest speed, filling cheeks with a striking crimson that even crossed the narrow bridge of her nose. Her body was not something to be gawked at, not deserving of the tender admiration and worship Dr. Lecter was giving it. It was made of slopes and angles caused by stress, erratic eating habits, lack of sleep. It was a miracle she still shaved each morning.

               Will never liked attention, good or bad.

               “Dr. Lecter-!”

               He licked and nibbled at her rosy areola, nosing her nipple teasingly until she thought she had gone completely mad. With deft fingers, he coaxed the opposite nipple to a stiff peak. Then he switched and a mix of the sensations made Will’s conflicted body hum. His hands caressed her, wandering across her chest, as a tongue brushed and flicked against a small nipple. He kissed her areola’s as though they were gems, his tongue tasting the wine which was her skin. He licked and sucked her, teeth catching a nipple slightly and Will gasped as he swirled the tongue over stiffening skin.

               She trembled. Hannibal enveloped her chest with a bent head and busy fingers, but his attention wasn’t as rapt as Will thought. Down below, a knee lifted from its perch and began to wedge itself between paralyzed legs. Gently, he forced her inner thighs apart and eased himself against them. A hand left a breast to slip his deerskin belt through the loops and onto the floor. The fluidness of his motions were choreographed brilliantly, there was never a hitch in his motions. If she hadn’t looked down below Hannibal’s waistline, she would have never suspected the doctor’s forward thinking.

               _I think you take a certain amount of pride in everything you do._

               _Will gripped a steering wheel. She was speeding, bypassing a stop sign, in her car. She looked to her side, catching the glint of a gun on the passenger seat. She felt angry. Confused. Betrayed._

              

               “Dr. Lecter-” She tried to move, scoot higher up on the chaise, try to get the man’s attention, do absolutely anything do get out of Hannibal's scrutiny. Reading her mind and probably smiling, Hannibal instead slid his hands down the flat plain of her stomach, along her hips, across her thighs and down to cup her ass. He lifted her so that he could scoot her legs down and off the edge of the chaise. Will felt herself being gently dragged. It was jarring. The lighting now wasn't considerate, it was intimate. She thought back to the man at his desk, sketching, waiting for her to wake up. He had been _waiting_ for this. And, there he went, sliding her legs off the chaise and following en suite, kneeling on the hardwood floor. He settled himself between her legs. There was something undeniably controlling about everything Hannibal did, even when serving others. The tall doctor towered over her most reserved area like a mountain, and the sight of him kneeling between her thighs, indulging in her, made something in her head wither and die. 

               She made the mistake of looking in Hannibal's eyes, watching as he took in the image she made on his chaise. Knowing the man and his love for the Renaissance, he probably envisioned grape-colored drapes surrounding her curves, her hair made of brushstrokes and pose more purposely lush and languid. Hannibal positioned himself, kneeling between her feet, and leaned forward to bring his head between open legs. Hands grasped her ankles as he kissed her thighs, the fingers caressing as his teeth nipped and licked. As his mouth played with her skin, the hands slowly traveled the length of her legs, stopping when they got to her thighs. So much attention in one spot. Will's chest rose quickly. Flat thumbs massaged her skin as he pushed pale legs to spread further. She nearly mewled, arms trembling but not moving from their spot.

               “You smell delicious, Will.”

               The comment didn’t help the fading of her blush. She feared the redness had conquered most of her face and began its descend toward her neck. Her chest heaved. She stared at the ceiling, not wanting to know how close he was to her underwear.

               Fingers went around the thin layer of fabric and pulled it to the side, his other hand still tracing lazy circles along her inner thigh. Will’s toes curled and uncurled. Hannibal leaned forward and kissed the delicate folds found underneath. The woman above made a tiny sound, a sudden small gasp. Slowly, Hannibal ran the tip of his tongue up the soft skin, smooth against his mouth. He licked and teased with each stroke, up and down, pushing forward just a little more each time.

               “N-no-” she gasped. Her body felt weak from the sedative, but without the drug Will would bet she’d be feeling just as powerless from Lecter’s motions. He probed her, kissing and sucking, letting his teeth graze her but not enough to hurt. Will felt something wet other than Hannibal’s saliva, and when he pushed his tongue forward, it confirmed the growing excitement her body began to feel. Her sex was hot, open now, and Hannibal continued to push into her with his back arching.

               Will closed her eyes in a silent gasp, but beneath eyelids she did not see stars of elation.

 

               _Instead, they were stars shining dully over Dr. Lecter’s office building. She stood across the street, car parked down little ways, gun gripped in her hand and under a coat’s sleeve. Her breath misted in the winter air. It was almost Christmas. Decorate lights lined each side of the quiet street, telephone poles with their red evergreens. The young woman crossed the road. Despite the cold, her blood was boiling._

              

               Hannibal slipped inside her with his tongue, listening to Will’s soft sighs with closed eyes. She lost in a world of her own as he worked her. He wondered if he was there, behind her eyes, but knew it really did not matter. Will had already given him so much. With each stroke, a wetness dripped into his mouth, a beverage Hannibal drank gratefully. He pushed between tight walls, the warmth of them quivering. Her arms and legs may be dead, but her sex was undoubtedly alive. When another spasm rocked through her, Hannibal pulled away with a hand still placed along the curve of her thigh. Will attempted to control her breathing, but she also tried once more to scoot away from the man. Her hands were unable to lift her minuscule weight further on the chaise.

               Disposing a damp handkerchief on the floor, Hannibal and his newly dry mouth crawled back onto the chaise, and scooted the young woman back up against the pillow. She tried to roll off the cushion, breath hitching when she noticed the man had also pulled his zipper down and let his pants hang loosely around his lower waist. Will whimpered as Hannibal settled his bulk between her legs and his mouth traveled back up her body. His tongue laved her nipple now, bathing it, flicking at it while a hand massaged the other. Her eyes were wide, yet she moaned, the noise echoing in both her head and the office. It was torture not being able to move. She was torn between escaping and grabbing the back of Hannibal’s head. Her mouth was caught in a stutter.

               Showing Will a crack in his composure, the man pressed down to kiss her again, mouth open and locking onto hers as he slipped a free hand back between her legs. Will could feel a fresh trickle of warmth spill from her center and she moaned into the kiss, never feeling so invigorated before. Hannibal’s nostrils flared and his thumb found her clit while its two long fingers pressed against damp panties. Will almost cried from the sensitivity she felt down there, and wanted to believe Hannibal had given her something more besides a mild sedative.

               Hannibal honed on her core, once again bypassing the thin fabric to dip the tip of his forefinger past slick lips.

               “Oh my god.” The exclamation was sudden, a gasp of disbelief and awe. The finger slid into her easily, and immediately picked off where Hannibal’s tongue had left off.

               Her hips jerked against the solid force of the man above her. He leaned against Will, covering her like that blanket she wanted decades ago, his head resting against the ear hidden beneath sweaty locks of hair. She could feel him breathe her in. The moment his finger pulled out and pushed back inside, he sighed “être une bonne fille” into her ear.

               Will’s eyes rolled up into her head as the orgasm that shuddered through her was fierce and unexpected. The dire combination of his dexterous finger, the wetness, and Hannibal’s apparent recollection of her childhood in Louisiana made Will not care about how she sounded. Her cry was dirty, loud, a high pitched mewl that rang off Hannibal’s office walls. It was glorious. Angels sang. For a moment, she thought she heard an elk cry. Oh...my, she didn't even care if Jack or Alan walked in. 

               When she came back to reality, she could feel Hannibal was still working her, pushing a second finger in and scissoring her walls to stretch her. There were jolting waves of pleasure still felt from her afterglow, and it mixed with a lingering ache of the stretch Hannibal was attempting to make.

               She groaned, her hands on either side of her gripping the cushion. “I-…stop-”

               “You’re a virgin.” Hannibal breathed, feeling as velvet walls gripped his fingers in a pleasant sensation. His breathing picked up, eyes almost black. Something hard pressed against her pale thigh. As he continued to finger her, and open her up more, his grip on her hips tightened. It might bruise.

               Hannibal bent down over Will, eyes half lidded as he leaned his forehead against the woman’s. He continued to push in and out of her, wetness making faint popping noises, and the hand on her waist came up to cradle a breast in his palm. Hannibal loomed, his height so immense that when he began to position himself, his upper chest took up most of her vision. It was almost bigger than Will’s entire torso. Hannibal had to crane his neck to look down at her, back bending, and savored the image. His knees rested on the cushion directly below her ready sex.

               And then she saw his girth spring forth from his silk briefs and trousers. Her body shivered, already telling her what she knew. The math did not add up. The equation didn't fit. Hannibal hadn’t prepared her enough- she wasn’t- he was…how was he going to…-

               The head of his cock began to rock against her wet opening. Will whimpered at the hot flesh bumping against her clit. It would come either way, she reasoned, _relax, you gotta relax or it will hurt even worse_. Fingers rubbed the glisten of pre-come at his tip into her slit with an escaped sigh of his own.

               “Are you still paralyzed?”

               She shook her head against the pillow and immediately arms wrapped under the back of her legs and her hips lined up with Hannibal’s, legs open to either side of him. It was a vulgar positioning, like a lust filled harlot, and Hannibal couldn’t tear his gaze from the entrancing pose Will laid in. Her dark hair was spread along the pillow, delectable skin dipped in embarrassed hues and flushes of arousal, full breasts bouncing slightly, full curves and flaring hips ready for attention.

               “Ooh-oh my god, Dr. Lecter, please-”

               Hannibal’s tip felt like a freight train colliding with a mouse’s den. Even after a tongue and two fingers, she was unprepared. Her face scrunched up, pressing into Hannibal’s chest as the man eased inside her slowly. He was consuming her whole. 

               “Oh my god,” her cries became hisses, panicked whispers, “s-s-stop-it’s-it’s too big-!” Her eyes widened as he sank to the hilt, not thinking it was possible. Between the little space between their bodies, Will could look down and see his entire length disappear into her.

               “Breathe deeply, Will.”

               It burned, the foreign intruder feeling more like medieval torture, and it made her stomach churn. The size was difficult to adjust to, but Hannibal made the feat a little easier by adjusting her hips. There was pain, pain, a little pleasure, then more and more pain until-

               -a subtle change of angle. Will paused before she moaned, eyes flicking upward before closing.

               Another memory sprang from the jolting clarity of the pleasurable ping.

 

               _Gun in hand, Will trekked through the office quickly and on soft feet. When she burst through the office door, Hannibal had been writing in a notebook, standing by a bookshelf across the room. Will cocked the gun, aiming directly between the man’s eyes. No words were exchanged, because the young woman’s rare eye contact told the doctor everything. Slowly, Hannibal closed his book, and placed it gently on his nearby desk. His gaze never left hers._

_“Good evening, Will.”_

_“Hello, Ripper.”_

 

               Will gasped, bringing herself back to the present. A hand cupping her bottom held her hips in place as the other wandered to the back of her neck. Hannibal balled a handful of her hair, tugging until the angle was good enough to kiss her mouth.

               A protest would have been muffled with just Hannibal’s mouth locked on hers, but his tongue had also slipped inside and coaxed hers away from its recoiled position. She couldn’t turn her head away, strong fingers pulling hair at their roots. Will kept her eyes open, Hannibal’s cheekbone and befallen hair hogging her line of vision. Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper. Hannibal Lecter killed those people. She realized that while at the latest crime scene. She had driven directly to Baltimore. She had been set on killing Dr. Lecter.

               Her mind short-circuited at the revelation and a whine from her throat vibrated in Hannibal’s mouth. Hours ago, Will would never have believed something like this would happen; the reality of the situation hounding her each time a slap of Hannibal’s pelvis snapped against hers.

               Will never liked Dr. Lecter’s taste in humor.

               “G-get off me!” Will suspected she should have been feeling more pain given the intensity and size of Hannibal, but it was hard to focus about that when she was too busy realizing the man was the killer she’s been helping Jack catch for the last five months. There was an overwhelming surge of pleasure washing over her in heavy waves. She opened her mouth again in a silent cry. “H-Han- stop-…you’re- stop- _you’retheripper_.”

               “Yes,” Hannibal breathed, feeling her walls constantly quiver around his length. He drove into her strikingly deep.

               “Nononono-” She refused to look at Dr. Lecter as he repositioned one of her legs over his shoulder. He hunched over her in renewed vigor, watching as Will failed to stifle a wail from the deeper angle. His tip dove into and against her cervix, making her spasm.

               “Concentrate, Will.” His rhythm never faltered. “You’re close.”

               “Mmmmm-” She babbled, eyes closing, hands shaking from newfound movement. “It-it hurts-so-full-it hurts-” Her hands shot up, splayed over the firm chest stretched over muscle.

               Hannibal’s blond hair was in her face, the strong line of his law prominent in her view as his body rocked into hers. Will held on for dear life. “Ohmygodohmygod-I can’t-please-don’t-” Just the whites of her eyes were visible under half-lidded eyelids. Her legs tensed, toes curled. An explosion happened somewhere deep within her, taking control of both her mind and body and filing each with a white space that felt like ecstasy. Hands dug into Hannibal’s chest, leaving half-moons in his skin. Hips lewdly rocked in tune to the man’s motions, her only priority to keep the sensation going as long as she could. Fireworks went off, Chernobyl had a meltdown, and she didn’t care that the man fucking her was the Chesapeake Ripper.

               His voice was just a rumble in her ear, making her shiver in throbbing, delightful aftershocks. Eyes watered slightly, her breath had trouble catching up. “What…” she swallowed, “what was that?”

               “An orgasm,” Hannibal gave as an answer, though he was grunting through each ball-slapping thrust, “quite possibly your first real one.”

               Her afterglow finally diminished and Will couldn’t help but try to squirm away with newfound energy in her limbs. She felt heat building up behind her eyes, emotions high. Head confused. Hannibal aimed to finished himself, and she didn’t recall him putting a condom on.

               “Don’t-don’t-please-”

               “Shhh, Will.”

               The young woman slapped, fruitlessly, at his dampening shirt. “No! No, don’t! I’m not on the pill!”

               “I have to.” Hannibal groaned, eyes closing slightly as he concentrated on the wave of satisfaction that began to build. His entire body shuddered. “You’re so beautiful like this, Will.”

               She shook her head side to side, haa-haaing as Hannibal caressed her breasts and his thrusts began to lose their rhythm. He filled her with his thrusts, slipped out and shoved himself back inside. Then there was one slow, deep thrust-

               “ _Hannibal_!”

               His first name rang out in the empty office, Will calling out in both indignation and surprise. It was a shout that embedded itself in the walls. She never felt the strange pulsing sensation before, an unfamiliar heat flooding her core and threatening to spill outward. She stopped breathing as Hannibal groaned long and deep, her saying his name bringing him even further over the edge. It was beautiful, like Voltaire's lost work. Hannibal drew her naked body closer as though he wanted to bury himself in her.

               His spend rushed up Will's channel and spilled out onto the chaise beneath them. More dripped as Hannibal gently rocked his hips as the aftershocks of his orgasm ebbed away.

               Will quivered and shook underneath the doctor’s dizzy body. For once, the collected Hannibal Lecter seem to be a bit disheveled -hair was in his eyes, sweat was staining his shirt. Will was in shock. How had this happened?

               Hannibal stirred above her, sweeping a thumb across her cheek to catch a stray tear. “I think our hour is up, Will.”

              The phrase was reminiscent of their sessions together. Now there was no going back. Either Hannibal would kill her or-

               He reached for something under the chaise. Will remembered the gun resting there.

               Hannibal pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, and Will could see a syringe in the man’s grasp, fingers gripping the reinforced plastic with a thumb poised at the plunger.

               Anxiety spiked. Will looked at him as a hand caressed her face, brushing stray locks of curls from her forehead. Hannibal was going to sedate her again. He was going to make her forget.

               “Han-”

               The syringe pressed into her thigh. The pinch was a sharp little bite, then a warmth enveloped her. Blackness began to surround her vision. She tried to lift her head, to scoot away, but coordination quickly slipped from her. She fell off the chaise. Hannibal stood, watching. She had to remember, she had to remember, it was Hannibal, Hannibal did this, I have to remem-

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